Wednesday, November 28, 2012

For the past 20 years, a set of vintage block letters spelling S-A-N-T-Ahas graced the top of our family room TV. The A's even have a Santa face. (Very cute, if I do say so myself!)

Anyway, in the olden days, when
my rapidly aging sons (sorry, guys) were in their teens, one of their oh-so-charming friends was fond of
rearranging those letters when I wasn't looking. Sometimes I wouldn't
notice for a day or two, and I've often wondered what visitors to our
home thought as they sat in our family room at Christmas time,
nonplussed by this supposedly Christian family that apparently felt the
need to give a holiday shout-out to S-A-T-A-N.

That kid loved to make me crazy. And you know what? He was good at it!

The men worked hard as waves grew rough;
a storm was on the way.
They needed to move quickly now
before the end of day.

The pots retrieved were nearly full;

there was enough for all.

And if the weather held off,

they’d be home before the squall.

A feast they’d have, a family feast,

with loved ones gathered round.

The memories and crab meat

promised sweetness, pound for pound.

With main and mizzen raised once more,

they set their sights on home.

Their little ketch was dancing…

flying fast across the foam.

Love was the gift that gave them wings

and made their spirits light.

In their stout hearts, they sang Noel

that silent, starry night.

Until, at once, the silence broke…

eclipsed by claps of thunder…

a squall so violent that it cast

their Christmas dreams asunder.

The gale was fierce, and driving rain

assailed them, fore and aft.

Their boat rose…fell like flotsam…

took on water like a raft.

They lowered sail, turned leeward, bound

themselves to lurching mast…

and pleaded for God’s mercy to

preserve their souls at last.

They did not beg for life or death;

they prayed for strength and grace.

They’d live to see their children, or

they’d die to see God’s face.

(Acceptance is the sailor’s creed;

man cannot thwart the sea.

But those who would submit to it

may yet find victory.)

And so they did; the tempest stilled.

Their lives were spared again.

The fog was thick and threatening,

but these were stalwart men.

The route they knew; and from the shore,

a lighthouse shined their way.

But somehow, in its signal,

they beheld another
day:

A day of hope and wonder,

of life forever new…

A night one star rose up to light

the world with heaven’s view.

“The beacon! ‘Tis a star…the wise men’s

star.” They whispered, low.

The lighthouse beckoned onward,

urging safety with its glow.

It had to be illusion, but

that bright beam made them feel

like wise men, seeking Jesus.

Such a thing could not be real.

(And yet, it’s true that Christmas Eve

holds wonder all its own.

Who better than seafaring men

to seek the Christ Child’s throne?)

And in a twinkling, they
were there…

three kings…yet still afloat…

their spirits in the ancient past…

their bodies in the boat.

“What mann’r of magic
is this?” said one.

See ye the things I
see?”

The others nodded, all amazed.

“Yet, how can this
thing be?”

“Here shines the Star
of Bethlehem!

And there, the lighthouse
beams.

Perhaps we lie
unconscious,

dreaming one another’s
dreams.”

But reason was suspended when

they heard an angel say,

“Fear not, for unto
you is born

a Savior. Come away.”

Their hearts were filled with gladness

that transcended time and space.

Three fisher kings released their world

to take a sacred place.

The star led them o’er hill and vale,

past groves of olive trees,

and finally, to a stable, where

they fell upon their knees.

A Child was born, the Son of God!

His promise was fulfilled.

And angels sang out praises until

every doubt was stilled.

The shepherds came to honor Him

and bowed in reverence sweet,

while fishermen-turned-kings laid gold

and spices at His feet.

They worshipped Him and prayed for Him

and marveled at His glory.

They touched Him and beheld Him, and

became part of His story.

Yet, all the while they felt beneath

their feet the rolling seas.

They saw the star but sensed the lighthouse

and their families.

A blinding flash!...the stable dimmed,

back through the years they flew.

The songs of angels vanished

into shouts of their own crew.

Turn
starboard…Starboard, mate! Look sharp!

We’re headed for the ice.

Now, hold the jib.
Tack. Tack! Heave to,

else we’re the
sacrifice.

Alas, the looming obstacles

were coming up so fast

that all three sailors knew the air

they breathed would be their last.

And yet their spirits whispered peace;

the Christ Child they had seen,

and lingering traces of the Magi

held their souls serene.

Grateful for the comfort, they looked

up and thanked its Source.

His answer was a miracle…

a gift that changed their course.

It seemed to them impossible

when angels filled the sky…

and turned the boat and sang them home…

Three Wandering Magi.

All were preserved, and even more,

their hearts were made brand new.

Years later, people said the lighthouse

saved them. Partly true.

But more than lives were saved. Those men

were never again the same.

They carried Christmas in their hearts.

They glorified Christ’s name.

And they were wiser than most men

had any right to be.

Some nights, they gazed into the stars,

eyes filled with mystery.

“Wise men still seek
Him,” they would say.

“What manner of men
are ye?”•••

•••

As a little bit of background, one of the first
incarnations of a Fisher Kingoccurred in 12th century France. He was cast as
the brother-in-law of Joseph of Arimathea, who was said to have used the Grail
to catch Christ's blood before laying him in the tomb. Joseph eventually
entrusts the Grail to his brother, Bron, who becomes first in a line of Grail keepers.

Later, in Le Didot-Perceval, the keeper of the Grail is
called the "Fisher King," and he is wounded. His story begins when
Percival returns to his castle and asks the “healing question.”

We are all wounded, and there IS indeed a healing question.

“What manner of
men ought ye to be?” Christ asks in the scriptures. “Even as I am,” He answers.

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WHICH DISNEY PRINCESS ARE YOU?

Strong and spirited. You're no one's girly girl; actually you are very determined person with a strong sense of self. Never let go of that! The only thing that equals your sense of self is your family, but the traditions of society can always be bent to protect something or someone you love.

WHICH COLOR CRAYON ARE YOU?

You Are a Yellow Crayon

Your world is colored with happy, warm, fun colors.
You have a thoughtful and wise way about you. Some people might even consider you a genius.
Charming and eloquent, you are able to get people to do things your way.
While you seem spontaneous and free wheeling, you are calculating to the extreme.

Your color wheel opposite is purple. You both are charismatic leaders, but purple people act like you have no depth.
(NO DEPTH??? SURELY YOU JEST!)